


Crash

by inkfishie



Category: Trigun
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Anime/Manga Fusion, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Tragic Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wolfwood is grumpy, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8030065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkfishie/pseuds/inkfishie
Summary: Unbidden, Vash thought of the threat that the preacher had made earlier when they’d been toe to toe with Gasback out in the desert.   I’ll take this out of your ass later





	Crash

**Author's Note:**

> Literally the first Trigun fic I've written since like 2005.  
> Takes place after the events of Badlands Rumble and entirely inspired by Nick's one line in the dub after Vash shows up to save the day. It was meant to be PWP but then angst happened. I swear, I can't go anywhere with these two without them angsting all over the place. 
> 
> Anyway, totally self-indulgent angst and porn. Well, and lots of peer pressure from my best friend who won't give me her Nigoshi doujin. 
> 
> HERES YOUR ANGSTY PORN, JOYCE.

 

 

The insurance girls burst into tears when Vash hopped down from the truck that was carrying the plant.

Nicholas hadn’t warned him, but Vash had expected it. He wrapped his arms around the two women and held them close as they cried into the front of his dusty, red coat. Nearby, the preacher scowled as he dug in his pockets for his cigarettes. Vash could only guess that it had been the other man who had informed the girls of his supposed demise the night before. The tight, angry line of his body said as much.

“You’re terrible, you made Milly cry.” Meryl said as the pair of them stepped away.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Maybe I can make it up to you?” Vash asked, contrite. He bowed his head in apology. Several steps away, Nicholas glowered disdainfully.  He was raging silently as he took an aggressive drag off his cigarette.

“You better!” Milly interjected. “But first you have to get the plant back where it belongs, everyone is counting on you.”

It was true.

The plant still needed tending and there was much to be done to get the city’s power back online. But Vash was distracted. He glanced in the other man’s direction. Nicholas’ dark brows were pinched together in a glower and Vash felt himself deflate at the look. There would be words later, once the business of putting the city back to rights was finished. Nicholas wouldn’t budge until it was done and Vash found that he dreaded it.

He said his good-byes to the girls, and promised that they would meet up later. Even with the weariness that had settled into Vash’s bones, he still had the rest of the day to get through. But there was an anxious knot twisting Vash’s stomach. It only seemed to twine more tightly as the afternoon progressed. By the time the lights in Macca city flickered back to life, Vash’s anxiety had grown ten-fold.

By then the double suns had sunk from the sky. But the celebration would last long into the night if the raucous cheering in the streets were anything to go by. Vash desperately wished for a long, hot shower and the comfort of a cool, clean bed. But the matter between himself and the preacher left Vash feeling cowardly and ill at ease. He didn’t want to face it just yet. So Vash allowed himself to be cajoled out into the streets and into the nearest saloon.

One saloon became two, and two became three. Somewhere along the way Milly and Meryl had made an appearance and joined the revelry. It was a spineless move perhaps, but after several rounds of drinks, Vash gave up trying to fend off the barmaid who was intent on refilling his glass.

But Nicholas was still a raging fire, un-tempered by the contents of his own glass. As the night drew on, he only appeared to become all the more restive and irritated. The party was still going on in full-swing around them when the girls decided to call it a night. It was then that Vash realized that there was little sense in putting it off anymore. Still, his gut was roiling with sudden unease as the four of them made their way out of the saloon and into the heat of the night.

A burst of sound followed them out the door and into the street. Somewhere up the road, a bell chimed the hour and Milly giggled as she counted out the time. Her laugh was sweet and care-free. For one envious moment, Vash wished that his life were that simple and uncomplicated; that his troubles belonged to someone else. But the thought left a bad taste in his mouth, so he pushed it aside with the best smile he could muster and said his good nights.

It wasn’t until the girls had vanished up the dark street that Nicholas started moving. Hefting Cross Punisher up over his shoulder, he stalked across the street in the direction of his hotel. Vash didn’t hesitate in following. The aching pull in his chest demanded it and refused to ease up even after he had fallen in step at the preacher’s side.

Of course the tension between them hadn’t eased in the slightest. Antsy and at a loss for just how he was supposed to fix this, Vash trudged along beside the other man. He barely had time to register the tingling feeling that _something_ was about to happen when there was a flurry of movement beside him.

Nicholas turned suddenly, snatching at the front of Vash’s red coat with all the speed of a viper. He shoved Vash bodily into the darkness of an alley that was nearby. Vash felt himself slam into the wall of a building hard enough to punch the air from his lungs. With a surprised gasp, he grit his teeth against the pain that bloomed across his back where his shoulder-blades smacked against the rough wood.

Dimly, Vash registered the thud of Nicholas’ weapon against the wall. Then, the preacher was pushing up into Vash's space menacingly. Angry, Nicholas pulled in a sharp breath. But Vash was distracted but the fan of the other man’s dark lashes, and the way the muscles in his neck tensed as he swallowed. Fingers itching with the sudden need to touch, Vash glanced up to meet Nicholas’ eyes. They burned with furious hurt, and a terrible accusation that had Vash releasing a soft, pained sound.

“I thought you were dead,” Nicholas spat out.

The confession hurt more than Vash thought it would. So did the other man’s anger. But pressed as Vash was against the wall behind him, he could do little to escape Nicholas' fury. Instead, he rolled his head back against the wall in a futile attempt to put some space between them.

“Did you hear me?” The preacher demanded, more antagonistic this time. He pressed further into Vash’s space and Vash could smell the tang of whiskey on his breath.

“Yeah, I heard you,” The blonde finally replied. Traitorously, his stomach lurched at the feeling of their bodies fitted together so snugly.

This was the first thing Nicholas had said to anyone in hours. It was the first time the other man had touched Vash in weeks. And, _Christ_ , Vash wanted to be touched. Guilty and intoxicated as he was, he was willing to accept it being done in anger. So long as it was Nicholas who was the one doing it.

But Vash could feel the tension thrumming beneath Nicholas’ skin. He could see the way that the other man's steely eyes flashed with pain. Unbidden, Vash thought of the threat that the preacher had made earlier when they’d been toe to toe with Gasback out in the desert.

 

_I’ll take this out of your ass later._

 

Vash pulled in a sharp breath, and Nicholas, quick as a whip snatched Vash’s coat about the collar and shook it.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Nick hissed, gaze flicking down to pause on Vash’s mouth for a flash of a moment before darting back up.

Vash felt himself sway closer, drawn in by the heat and gravity that the other man was giving off.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Nick,” Vash admitted quietly. He was distracted again, this time by the warmth of Nicholas’ skin.

The fingers tangled in the fabric at Vash’s throat tightened. The other man released a low snarling sound that sent a little thrill of arousal spooling out into Vash’s gut. He couldn’t help it, nor could he help the soft needy sound that burst from between his lips.

Nicholas’ eyes narrowed. Hawk-like and assessing. For a moment he was still, then he was moving forward to slot their hips together. Vash felt the bite of the splintered wall at his back. At his front, Nicholas' hand was moving through the flaps of his coat to palm roughly at his groin. Vash yelped out in surprise even as his body shivered in response. He lurched forward into the touch.

“Is this what you wanted?” The preacher demanded.

Was this what he wanted? Vash wasn’t sure, only that he was tired and filthy and aching in a place somewhere deep in his chest. He ached in a way that made him want to kiss away Nicholas’ fury and whisper all the soft, tender things that were stuck in his throat.

 

_I love you. I missed you. Please don’t leave me._

 

Instead, Vash pitched forward to rest his swimming head on the other man’s shoulder. He breathed carefully through his loneliness, shamed by the hot sting in his eyes. It felt like years since anything between them had been more than a hurried, fumbled coupling that neither spoke of come morning. Even before Macca they had parted on not so friendly terms. Vash wanted...He _wanted.._

“Yes.” He breathed. “No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

This seemed to soften the jagged edge of the other man’s fury a bit. Nicholas blew out a heavy sigh and the tight, antagonistic tension drained out of him. He was gentler as he palmed at Vash's arousal.

“We’re a fucking mess, you and I.” Nicholas finally said his voice gruff.

Vash swallowed around the tightness in his throat. “Maybe.” He agreed at length. Meanwhile, Nicholas' calloused fingers found their way into Vash's snug pants to grope at his arousal.  “Nick,” The blonde gasped, breathless with the urgency with which he was being palmed. “This.. This really isn't a good place.”

The preacher, for his part, rolled his hips into Vash and tightened his hold on Vash’s prick. “Shut up. You don’t get to decide.” Nicholas pronounced, breath hot against Vash’s throat.

When the other man nipped sharply at the soft skin there, a bolt of heat zipped straight to Vash’s groin. He tipped his head sideways against the weathered shingles, dizzy from the stimulation as much as he was from the alcohol he had consumed.

The thing was, Vash was oh so ready to let Nicholas have his way; to let calloused fingers stroke him until he reached completion. Embarrassingly, Vash was nearly there as it was. He could feel the heat of it building quick and reckless, aided by the moist warmth of Nicholas’ mouth biting at his skin. Each twisting stroke of the other man’s curled fist brought Vash closer and closer.

But there was a sudden burst of laughter nearby and it had Nicholas going still. At the mouth of the alley, voices drew close and Vash squirmed in breathless agony as the other man went tense and quiet. Shadows passed by, dangerously close to where the two of them were pressed together in the darkness. A low, soft noise loosed itself from Vash’s throat and Nicholas hissed in his ear. Pulse thrumming, Vash pinched his eyes shut. He could hear Nicholas’ raspy, panicked breathing, and the soft scrape of dirt as the preacher shifted protectively closer.

At the mouth of the alley, the group finally passed by. When Nicholas withdrew mere seconds later he yanked his hand out of Vash’s pants as if he had been burned. Vash swallowed hard, betrayed by the quiet needy sound of his breathing. Nicholas stepped away, placing a vast chasm of space between the two of them.

When Vash finally opened his eyes it was to the smell of sulfur and the hiss of a cigarette being lit. Nicholas glanced aside with a guilty scowl as Vash zipped himself back up. He was still aching and hard. Half of Nicholas’ cigarette had been reduced to ash before the other man decided to speak.

“I guess you were right.” Nicholas said, frowning.

He glanced up to eye Vash with a look that was far too remorseful given the stubborn pique from moments ago. The anger was still there of course. It smoldered in the depths of Nicholas dark eyes, but had been tempered by the hunger of arousal. Vash pulled in a deep breath, bracing himself against it.

“It's fine,” Vash replied. He offered up a smile, but Nick saw through it in an instant.

The other man made a rough sound in the back of his throat even as he took an abortive step forward. “Bullshit.” The preacher declared.

Vash scowled. Of course it wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine. Not with the way that Vash’s head was swimming with too much cheap whiskey and the dark, longing misery in Nicholas’ eyes. It hurt, and to be so at odds with the other man and left Vash’s chest aching.

“Yeah, maybe.” He admitted at length, soft and pained. Vash shuffled where he stood, kicking at the dirt at his feet. “I’ll be fine. I’ll get over it.”

Nicholas blew out a long sigh that was wreathed in cigarette smoke. The sharp line of his shoulders sagged, and he turned to pin Vash with a look that was guilty and defeated.

“Let's get out of here, yeah?” The preacher asked. The hardness had gone out of his voice. He sounded tired.

Vash bit his lip, nodding in lieu of words. He didn’t trust himself not to give voice to all the sad things that were pounding against the inside of his skull. Silently, he moved forward to fall into step beside Nicholas. The other man hefted up his artillery, then was stepping out of the darkness of the alley and into the street.

Continuing in silence, they drifted through the buttery yellow illumination of the street lights. At the top of the hill, the lambent glow of the plant pulsed in the warmth of the evening. If Vash followed the thread of it, he could hear the thrum of the plant’s life-force and its thoughts. It was comforting to know that it hadn't been damaged and that it would have been saved regardless of his intervention. He smiled a bit dolefully, disengaging from the plant. When Vash turned, he found that Nicholas was watching him thoughtfully.

“I was just... The plant.” Vash explained haltingly. They didn’t often speak of it, the ways in which Vash was different to other human beings. Nor did they ever speak of way they had been brought together or the split coin that Nicholas carried. It was all tied together in a huge, jumbled knot. “I’m glad you went after it and were able to save it.”

“You would have done the same,” Nicholas replied gruffly.

It was true. And had their positions been reversed Vash probably would have felt the same anger and misery. However, had their positions been reversed, it was very likely that Nicholas really would have been dead. Preternatural abilities aside, Vash had nearly suffocated in all that shifting slippery sand. It had been sheer dumb luck and a quirk of his own physiology that had kept him alive.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Vash stewing in his own cyclical thoughts. Predictably, the hotel Nicholas was housed in looked rough. It had clearly seen better days if peeling paint and ramshackle shutters were anything to go by. The steps were creaky and Vash noted the sign post was hanging by one rusty hook. Behind the front desk, a weedy sort of man sat tipped in his chair. He gave the pair of them a cursory glance as they stepped inside, then turned back to the tattered pages of his magazine.

Nicholas blew a vaguely irritated sound and angled his head in the direction of a narrow staircase. Vash followed. At the top of the stairs, they moved into a small hallway. When Nicholas suddenly stopped, Vash nearly stumbled into him.

“Watch it, Needle Noggin.” He warned.

Vash, feeling rebuked and suddenly fractious snorted out loudly and slumped against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest impatiently as Nicholas set Cross Punisher aside to dig into his pockets for the room key.

“Why d’you always go for dumps like these? There are nicer places up the hill a bit.” Vash groused.

Fighting with the sticky lock, Nick cursed. Then he was turning to angle Vash with an ill-tempered glare. “I didn’t ask you to come. If you don’t like it you can go.” He said hotly even as he turned back to force the door with his shoulder. It popped open with a bit of a splintery noise but was otherwise unharmed. Nicholas snatched up his weapon and stalked inside. He left Vash to wallow in uncertainty in the hall.

“You coming in or not?” The preacher asked from within.

Vash drew in a breath and turned to shuffle inside. He’d barely shut the door behind him when he felt himself being crowded up against the wall. It wasn’t rough like the alley but Vash was still taken by surprise. The gentleness with which Nicholas pushed in against him was unexpected and left Vash feeling out of depth. The other man’s hands were careful as they bracketed Vash’s hips. They slid between the flapping tails of Vash’s coat to settle at his flanks. Moving closer still, the curved line of Nicholas' aquiline nose pressed up against the humid skin of Vash’s neck.

It left Vash shivering a bit, overwhelmed by the sudden nearness. He desperately wanted to touch Nicholas. But Vash wasn’t sure if the preacher would allow it, even now that he was breathing in the heat of Vash’s skin. Squirming in hesitation, a soft distressed sound escaped Vash’s lips. He hated this, the way things were between them. He was so grievously tired of it. Vash shut his eyes, feeling the pulse of his aching heart spilling over wetly to roll down his cheeks. Nicholas cursed quietly, but Vash couldn’t help it. He jolted when he felt the calloused pad of a thumb moving across his cheek.

“Don’t do that. Just stop it.” The preacher demanded his own voice gravelly and weary.

Vash bowed his head, unable to stop himself now that he’d started. Nicholas’ hair brushed his temple. Vash longed to push himself closer but did not.

“I’m sorry. I--” Vash began but hiccupped on the tightness constricting his throat.

Nicholas tensed and made an irritated, indecisive sound. After a moment his palm was sliding across Vash’s jaw and moving to curl at the base of Vash’s skull. The other man reeled Vash in suddenly and the blonde felt the crush of lips against his own. It was clumsy as Vash struggled for breath through his tears, but Nicholas' mouth was warm and pliant. He kissed Vash with startling gentility, pouring his frustration out between them with tenderness.

When they parted Vash remained as he was, bowed against Nicholas' head. For a long while, they breathed together quietly. But the closeness, while comforting, did little to ease the vast emptiness that threatened to swallow Vash whole. He tipped his head away, angling it up toward the ceiling. When he opened his eyes Vash noted the peeling paint and cracked plaster there. Eventually, Vash was able to calm himself.

The warmth of Nicholas' fingers drifted over Vash's skin. His nails scraped at the short hairs at the back of Vash’s neck before moving to tug at the collar of Vash’s dusty coat.

“Take this off?” He asked, his voice was an enticing, low rumble.

Almost Vash refused. He knew what Nicholas wanted, Vash wanted it too. But it would solve nothing. The real heart of the matter was something they wouldn’t discuss, not now or likely ever. It would be that dark alley all over again. It would be jamming their ill-fitting pieces together to fend off the reality of their situation for a few breathless moments. Something seized in Vash’s chest and for a desperate moment, he wondered if maybe it would have been better had he stayed dead. If it might have been better to make a clean break and disappear from Nicholas’ life. He could’ve run. He could’ve run so far and so fast that he could have outrun the mess he’d made all those many moons ago.

But it was a reckless, stupid idea. Vash could no more leave any of it than Nick could. They were trapped in it and the only way out of it was to face it head on. Knives would make sure of it, one way or another. And Nicholas, beautiful, dangerous Nicholas, (who was breathing into Vash’s skin like it was something precious and lying to himself about it) was a target whether Vash was with him or not.

“Yeah, okay.” Vash decided at length. Because even if it was just this, Vash ached for it; would take what he could get while it lasted.

Nicholas drew back and Vash’s fingers moved to fumble with the buttons on his coat. He slid out of it easily enough then moved past the preacher to lay it across the chair near the window. When he turned, Vash found his eyes catching on the battered remains of the small refrigerator in the corner of the room. The preacher followed his gaze and grunted out in irritation.

“Don’t say it,” Nick warned.

Vash threw up his arms in a disarming gesture even as he frowned. “I wasn’t! Geeze. Settle down!” He squeaked, indignant.

“You were!” Nicholas shot back.

The other man was advancing in Vash’s direction. Vash found himself shuffling back a few steps and giving ground. Close again, the light from the window illuminated the furrowed line of the preacher’s brow and the tight line of his pursed lips. Vash glanced aside to take stock of his surroundings. When he turned back in Nicholas’ direction, the other man was pushing him backward. The back of Vash’s knees bumped the edge of the mattress and he scrambled to sit before he toppled over.

“We are not talking about it.” Nick pronounced firmly.

Vash bristled a bit, scrubbing at his still damp face. “You never talk about anything.” He snapped. Above him, the preacher’s scowl hardened and Vash huffed out in defeat. “Fine. _We are not talking about it._ ”

“Good.” The preacher replied.

Nicholas pushed between Vash’s thighs and drew nearer. Vash’s wanted to touch him. Instead, he tipped his head up, watching the other man watch him in the dimness. The expression on the preacher's face wasn’t one Vash could easily decipher.  Silent, his dark eyes were steadfast as they locked Vash's gaze. It was a strange sort of stand-off that lasted several long moments. Then Nicholas’ face was softening.

“What do you want?” He asked, gentle but direct. Penance maybe for the way he had treated Vash in the alley.

But it was a loaded question, and Vash wasn’t sure how to respond. Not when a million and one answers were ready to fly off the tip of his tongue.  Sighing, he dropped his head against the stiff fabric of the other man’s suit. He could feel the jolt of muscle in Nicholas’ abdomen as the preacher drew in a sharp, surprised breath.

“..Just you.” Vash said, voice quiet.  _Always you_.

Above him, Nick huffed out a stream of low curses. Then his hands were in Vash’s hair, his fingers pushing through the drooping strands of it. A shower of grit came free and the preacher grunted loudly.

“Goddamned bleeding heart idiot.” He mumbled. But Vash could hear something like affection in his tone. A watery smile found its way to Vash’s lips.

“Yeah, maybe.” Vash returned, if not a bit ruefully. The fingers in his hair gave a bit of a sharp pull and Vash started a bit. The floor pinged with a spray of sandy particles. “Oww. Careful.”

“You need a shower. You’re full of dirt.” Nicholas observed. Vash tipped his head up, pushing his nose in against the dark fabric of the preacher’s blazer. He reached out, looping his spindly arms around the other man’s back.

“Later. I just--” He began, but was cut off by another tug to his hair.

“No, now.” The preacher ordered. “I don’t want the desert all through my bed.”

Vash sighed shifting to set his palms to Nicholas’ hips. Easing the other man away then, Vash gave in. Bending forward, he pulled off his boots with some difficulty. They poured sand as he tossed them aside, and he glanced up to find Nicholas watching him with a raised brow. Vash snorted irritably and hauled himself heavily to his feet where he began to strip his gloves.

More sand.

Fine, so maybe Nicholas had been right. Vash was scowling as he worked the buckle of his belt and set it, and his gun on the bedside table. It was out of pure spite that he ruffled his fingers through his mussed hair to release another spray of dirt.

Nicholas, who had since moved to sit on the ledge of the window looked up from where he was lighting a cigarette. The lights from the window painted his face with an odd, yellow cast. Vash glowered at Nicholas stubbornly. He had to quash the desire to follow the line of shadow along the other man’s stubbled jaw with his fingers. The preacher glanced pointedly at the mess on the floor, then angled Vash with an irked look.

“Just go clean up already. _Christ._ Don’t be so stubborn.” He said.

Vash blew out a loud breath, annoyed. But he turned and stalked to the bathroom, unzipping the front of his shirt as he went. Behind him, Nicholas said nothing. For one crestfallen moment, Vash was disappointed that the other man didn't join him. However, the mechanics of cramming two fully grown men into a tiny shower stall was something Vash didn't really have the patience for.

Undressing quickly, Vash bathed himself. The tepid water sluiced over his skin, washing away the film of dust that had gathered there. It was a while before the water ran clean as it swirled down the drain. It was rather childishly that Vash used the rest of the preacher’s soap to scrub his hair clean. It stuck up messily after he’d toweled it dry.

When Vash ventured back out into the darkness of the bedroom Nicholas was still hovering by the window. The other man had unbuttoned both his blazer and the shirt beneath. The tails of the crisp, white fabric flapped open exposing a swath of naked skin. Vash’s eyes trailed the length of Nicholas’ torso. When he glanced up Nicholas’ was watching him avidly. Despite himself, Vash felt his face flush under the intensity of the preacher’s gaze. Quietly, deliberately, Nicholas stubbed out the remains of his cigarette. Then he was flowing up to his footing and stalking toward Vash. He pushed into Vash’s space with no pretense and jabbed a finger into Vash’s chest. It hurt and Vash jerked back at the sensation.

“Tch! Why do you always have to be so-- That hurt.” Vash said. He lifted a hand to rub it over the mottled, bruised skin.

Nicholas jabbed him again, prompting an indignant hiss from Vash. He shuffled back a step and was ready to defend himself. Instead the other man moved in close to grip Vash at the hip and reel him in. Nicholas’ mouth was hot against the shell of Vash’s ear.

“Don’t get shot next time, you idiot.” He said, voice quiet and playing on a rough note.

Vash stilled, the uneven cadence of the preacher’s breathing was loud in the stillness. It was with a measure of hesitation that Vash lifted his arms to slide them around Nicholas' shoulder. He pulled, drawing their bodies closer together. He was frowning as he turned his head into the preacher’s temple. Vash longed to kiss Nicholas there but knew it would only provoke the other man, given the state he was in. Along Vash’s flanks, Nicholas’ hands pressing against the skin there in something like reverence. His fingers bumped along each scarred divot as he moved to unknot the towel looped around Vash’s waist.

“I’ll try not to,” Vash replied finally as the towel came undone and fell quietly to the floor.

Nicholas made a soft, anguished sound against Vash’s neck in response. They both knew there would always be a next time. There would always be this and the endless cycle of it. Vash’s arms tightened around the preacher’s shoulders. Nicholas was trembling with some pent emotion, hiding it in the dewy heat of Vash’s skin. But Vash wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know what he could offer other than himself. It was the only comfort he could give, it was the only comfort Nicholas knew how to accept. He curled his fingers, dragging them roughly across Nicholas’ back.

“Nick, I want..” Vash began, throat clenching unexpectedly around the words. “..Please. I want you.”

For a moment it was silent between the two of them, then Nicholas was drawing back. He was looking aside as if shamed, brows knit in a thoughtful frown. When Nicholas glanced back in Vash’s direction his expression had a softness to it that Vash couldn't quite read. He reached out, his thumb skimming just under Vash's left eye in a sweet, tender gesture

 “Yeah, okay,” Nicholas replied finally.

Breathing out loudly, Vash felt a surge of sudden, crushing affection. He brushed forward, pressing his mouth against the preacher's. It was far less clumsy than their previous kiss, all balmy heat and impatient ardor. Emboldened by Nicholas' pleased sigh, Vash pushed at the other man's clothing. The coat and shirt slid off his broad shoulders to join the towel on the floor. Vash was still carefully sucking at Nicholas’ bottom lip when he snagged the other man by the belt and coaxed him toward the bed.

Nicholas followed with little prompting. He moved in tandem with Vash as they maneuvered down onto the bed. Their mouths parted a moment as Vash scuttled up the mattress. He dragged Nicholas up with him by the hips. Then the preacher’s mouth was back as he bent over Vash, hungry and wanting. Vash grunted out in response, fingers flying to the buckle of Nicholas’ belt. He made swift work of it, dragging it out of the loops of the other man’s pants and chucking it aside. It clattered noisily to the floor even as Nicholas swung suddenly upright. Indignant, Vash chased after him, wanting the hot press of the other man’s mouth again. When he couldn’t reach, he opted instead to lay open-mouthed kisses along Nicholas’ chest and abdomen.

The preacher swore as Vash’s fingers moved toward the fastenings of his pants. Vash hauled them down far enough to release the hardened length of him.

“Let me touch you?” Vash pleaded, glancing up to find Nick watching him through the dark fringe of his lashes. There was the faintest of flushes creeping down the other man's chest. Vash pressed forward, nosing at Nicholas’ sternum.

“Yeah. Fine, just-- Hang on a sec.” Nicholas responded, voice playing at a deliciously low octave.

Vash squirmed in arousal. He opened his mouth against Nicholas’ skin, tasting the heat of it. Above him, the preacher grunted and drew away to stand. Curious, Vash watched as the other man snatched his duffle bag from the floor. Impatient, Nick dug through it. Eventually, he produced a small bottle of lubricant and a foil packet. He let the bag fall to the floor as he set the items on the table beside the bed. Then he was stripping off the rest of his clothes and kicking them aside.

Captivated, Vash's eyes trailed the long sweeping lines of Nicholas' body. Scooting to the edge of the mattress, Vash snatched the other man around the thighs and drew him close. Trailing a damp line along sun-browned skin with his tongue, Vash sighed. He bent his head, nosing into the heady, musky scent at the juncture of Nicholas’ thigh and groin. Above him, Nicholas released a soft, gruff sound. His fingers were in Vash’s hair, curling around the long strands of it. Vash smiled a bit, sliding a hand solicitously around the curve Nick’s thigh and buttocks. He continued his exploration, thumb pressing into the dense muscle of the other man’s upper thigh. When Vash reached out to take hold of Nicholas’ swollen prick, the other man groaned.

Pressing the underside of the solid shaft, Vash dipped to mouth lightly at the flush head with his lips. Nicholas cursed a bit, jolting under the lightness of Vash’s touch. It wasn’t something that the preacher particularly liked, Vash knew that. Still, he couldn’t help himself. Above him, Nicholas gave Vash’s hair a sharp tug in warning. Vash retaliated by moving up to the subtle curve of the other man’s lower abdomen to give it a hard nip.

“Don’t pull my hair like that, I’m not a Thomas! ” Vash snapped, scowling.

Nicholas glowered back at him. “Don’t do that ticklish shit then, you know I don’t like it.”

“Fine. I won’t.” Vash returned with a petulant huff. Even so, he had to fight the urge that had him wanting to do it again.

But the fingers in his hair eased their hold, and Vash’s glare softened. He returned to what he’d been doing. Thumbing at the base of Nicholas’ arousal, he then slid the pad of his finger up until it bumped into the flared head of the other man’s prick. Vash grasped hold of the shaft and when he dragged his hand back down, the flush, naked glans became exposed. Forgoing the light, teasing touch, Vash dipped down and took the familiar weight of Nicholas into his mouth. Above him, the preacher grunted and Vash could feel his body curl forward.

Tightening his arm around the back Nick's thighs, Vash kept the other man pinned in place as he tongued at the hard flesh in his mouth. Splaying his free hand out over Nicholas’ thigh, Vash rubbed soothing circles into the muscle there. Meanwhile, his mouth was now applying a tight, suctioning pressure to Nicholas’ cock. The other man grunted out loudly, his muscles jumping and twitching with the effort to keep still. Groaning himself, Vash accommodated the other man by sliding his palm down away from Nicholas’ thigh. With room to maneuver now, the other man began to thrust shallowly into the moist heat of Vash’s mouth.

It wasn’t careful and lacked the finesse of some of their other couplings. But Vash was achingly hard as Nick fucked into his mouth. The rounded head of the other man's prick was and bumping against the back of Vash's throat. Working to accommodate the thrusting weight of Nicholas' cock, Vash breathed noisily. His chin was slick with spit, and he grunted loudly around Nicholas' girth. Above him, Nicholas cursed and pulled away. The flared head of his cock bumped ticklishly against Vash's hard palette as he withdrew. Dazed, Vash tipped his head up to turn his eyes in Nicholas’ direction. He wiped his chin clean with the back of a hand.

“I don’t--” Nick began. His voice was rough and breathless. “You keep doing that and it’s gonna be over pretty quick, Spikey.”

Vash couldn’t help but grin a little.

“Maybe I’m just that good.” He shot back. Above him, Nicholas’ eyebrow shot up, his expression flat. Vash’s smile slid right off his face.

“I’ve had better.” The preacher declared, crisp and to the point. Snorting at that, Vash heaved himself back across the bed and pulled Nicholas with him.

“Such terrible lies from such a pretty mouth.” Vash lamented.

The preacher was rolling his eyes even as he pushed up into the vee of Vash’s parted thighs. Drawing closer, he dove for Vash’s mouth and rumbled out a pleased groan as he sucked at nipped at Vash’s lower lip. But Vash was frantic for some sort of friction, for a tighter pressing of their bodies. His own prick throbbed painfully and was weeping with excitement. Vash arched upward as Nicholas continued to kiss him artlessly, desperate for the hot slide of skin on skin.

Nicholas, it seemed, had his own plans. Drawing away, he sat back on his heels. Somewhat baffled, Vash was about to question the other man until he felt himself seized up around his legs. Drawn up until the curve of his spine rested against the preacher's thighs, Vash squawked when Nicholas pushed into the back of his knees to force his long legs apart. It was awkward and uncomfortable to be bent nearly in half. Indignant, Vash glowered and tried to wriggle away.

But whatever protest Vash had been about to make died on his lips when he felt a warm puff of humid air on his skin. The swipe of Nicholas’ tongue on the tight, furled muscle of his entrance was startling.

“Fuck, _Nick_!” Vash gasped, body quivering with jolts of electric pleasure.

The preacher hummed out in response even as his tongue was jabbed lewdly into the heat of Vash’s body. Muscles clenching, Vash panted out a low, unintelligible sound. Nicholas’ tongue pushed further inside him. Vash _keened_ , wrenching his head to the side.

God, it was filthy and so _good_.

Scrabbling helplessly at the blankets with clenched fingers, Vash whined out long and loud. He rolled his hips, pressing them down into the damp, twining pressure. Caught in Nicholas’ steely grip and unable to escape the other man’s tongue, Vash felt deliciously trapped.

But Nicholas was drawing back. And when the rough pad of one of the other man’s fingers pressed within and eased the muscle open, Vash cursed. He knew what was coming, and quick as a flash, he arched up to capture Nicholas’ head in the tight grip of his thighs.

“Don’t you _dare_ fucking spit on me Nicholas D. Wolfwood. It’s disgusting.” Vash warned, eyes snapping up to pin the other man with a glare.

Nick glowered and swallowed thickly. He’d been caught. “How is that even any different from having my tongue jammed up there?” He demanded churlishly.

Vash scowled, tightening his grip. “It just is.” He returned.

Frowning, Nicholas pressed his thumb up into the warm, dewy skin of Vash’s perineum. The blonde grunted. It was an attempt at distraction that Vash wouldn't fall for like he had in the past. Throwing an arm out toward the bedside table, Vash fumbled for the bottle of lubricant and the condom. He finally managed to snag the both objects with some difficulty. Nicholas, still trapped in the cage of Vash's thighs, scowled in annoyance. Finally releasing the other man, Vash tossed the bottle and the foil packet in Nicholas' direction.

“Don’t _spit_ on me.” Vash reiterated. Above him, Nicholas rolled eyes.

“Yes, fine. _Christ_.” He snapped, meeting Vash’s eyes dourly.

For a few tense moments, a glaring match ensued. But then the tension in Nicholas’ shoulders was bleeding away. He bent slowly, turning his head to nip at the muscle of Vash’s thigh. Jerking in surprise, Vash felt heat flaring up in his gut. He slumped with a curse, even as Nicholas descended to mouth at the base of his prick.

“Ass.” He grunted, breathless. The sharp snick of the bottle clicking open punctuated the quiet. Vash's insides twisted with anticipation.

The first slick finger pushing inside of Vash came with little warning. Muscles clenching in excitement, the blonde squirmed around the intrusion. But Nicholas was working him open expertly, thorough in his familiarity of Vash’s body. Slick with sweat and panting loudly, Vash twisted in the other man’s grip. Even with the addition of a second finger pushing inside of him, Vash was unable to ease the ache that was pooling low in gut. He wanted more, and Nicholas' fingers were not nearly enough. Nor were they where Vash wanted them. Grunting in frustration, he swung his eyes in the other man’s direction.

Nicholas’ eyes were dark, and heavy-lidded, His neck and chest flushed with heat and perspiration. He twisted a third finger into the tight furl of Vash's body, careful as worked the muscle loose and open. Vash’s eyes fluttered as he released a long groan and bit his lip. Nicholas shifted back to fumble one-handed with the condom, ripping it open with aid of his teeth.

“Nick,” Vash gasped, reaching out to grab at the other man’s forearm.

“Yeah, I’m--” The preacher grunted in response. He moved away and chivvied Vash into a better position.

They shifted together, Vash sliding to hitch his quaking thighs up around Nicholas’ hips. The other man was bent forward now, poised with his weight on his outstretched arm. His other hand was gripped around his own hard prick. Full and hot, Nicholas pushed into the snug tightness of Vash’s body. The slick burn of it was enough to have Vash’ pinching his eyes shut. Above him, Nicholas cursed even as he withdrew to re-seat himself. Hastily applying more lubricant, he eased himself back into the snug heat of Vash’s body.

It was better this time, despite the dull ache of it. Vash bit into his lip as Nicholas’ hips rolled, shallow for a few measures as he allowed Vash time to adjust. A beat later, and Nicholas was pressing home, sheathed to the hilt. He blew out a broken sort of sound as he found his stride. 

Accustomed to the stretch now, Vash was quaking as Nicholas moved. The sparking sensation that jolted his insides had Vash's lungs hitching on a long, thready whine. He pushed his hands up into Nicholas' sweat-damp hair and drew him down to seal their mouths together in a sloppy, breathless kiss.

Nicholas was pounding into Vash in earnest now. But despite the buzz pleasure twisting knots in Vash’s gut, it wasn’t enough. Vash cursed brokenly against the other man’s mouth. Nick, distracted for but a moment, groaned loudly. Then he was shifting upright, hauling the two of them backward. He scrambled off the bed to stand, arousal bobbing slick and wet against his stomach. He snatched Vash around the legs, and lugged the blonde to the edge of the mattress. Once there, Nicholas was pushing himself back between Vash’s thighs. He spread Vash apart at the ankles, nudging back into the tight, wet heat of Vash’s body. His pace was unforgiving.

The air punched out of Vash’s lungs. Stretched open like this he felt far too exposed, the slick sound of Nicholas pounding into him so very obscene and so very good. Vash glanced up helpless and panting to find that Nicholas was watching him intently. The preacher looked _wrecked._ He snapped his hips forward sharp and antagonistic. Vash’s stomach clenched.

“Touch yourself, I want to see you,” Nicholas demanded, voice a low growl.

Fire spread through Vash’s gut and his hand flew to his own aching, slippery prick. It dribbled, leaking damp over Vash’s clenched fist as he worked himself. Nicholas was still fucking him, hard and fast. But the rhythm was dissolving into frantic, frenetic movement. Vash could tell that Nicholas was close. The other man’s face was twisted into something of a broken grimace as he chased after release.

Vash was nearly there as well, his pulse drummed loudly in his ears. He tightened his fist, pumping himself without artistry. Jolted by the unexpected snap of quivering tension, Vash cried out as he trembled through it. He gasped as the sensation stretched long, unfolding into what seemed like eons.

Desperate now, Nicholas hauled Vash closer. He was making a soft, pained grunting sound as he continued to pound into Vash's body.

" _Nicholas_." Vash gasped before he could stop himself.

But Vash had given far too much away with the way he had called the other man's name. The preacher's head snapped up, eyes sharp and sad and so very beautiful. Then he was grunting and turning aside. A moment later and he was crumbling under the onslaught of his own shuddering completion. He bucked and rolled his hips through it, muscles clenching as he continued to push into the heat of Vash’s body. Eventually, he stilled, but his body was still quivering.

In the quiet of the room, the labored sound of their breathing seemed loud. Finally, Vash swallowed heavily. He itched to speak, to give Nicholas the tender-hearted confession lodged in his chest. Before he could though, Nicholas was easing away. He was careful as he separated himself, but was gone a moment later. Cloistered away behind the bathroom door, the lock engaged with a soft click.

Vash pulled in a breath and held it tight in his lungs. He held it until the burn of it stung worse than the sharp sting of misery he felt. Slowly, he blew the stale air out of his lungs. Then carefully, gingerly he was pulling himself upright. Moving off the bed, he snatched up the discarded towel. Vash cleaned himself up gently, then returned to the mattress where he lay out across it. A long while passed, but still Nicholas hid himself away. Sighing, Vash settled beneath the sheets and curled onto his side. He could still feel the heat of the other man where it had burned into his skin. Numb, he stared out at the wall.  

 

 

Vash didn't remember falling asleep. But when he woke some time later Nicholas pressed against his back. The length of him was curled protectively around Vash's body. The broad flat of the other man's palm rested against Vash's chest where his heart thumped loudly against his ribcage. The breath caught in Vash's throat. He pulled in on himself, willing away the sudden welling of tears in his eyes. At Vash’s back Nicholas stirred. His nose brushed gently into the hair at the nape of Vash’s neck. A sweet, sleepy sound broke the silence around them and Vash held himself carefully still.

“You’re thinking too loud.” The preacher grumbled.

At Vash’s chest, Nicholas’ fingers splayed out, pressing soothingly into Vash’s sternum.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t-- Sorry I woke you.” Vash replied, voice quiet.

For a while Nicholas said nothing. He continued to press soothing little touches into Vash’s skin. Eventually, his palm drifted. It settled over the tender flesh that had bruised in the wake of Vash being shot.  His breath was warm as it tickled the back of Vash’s neck.

“Go to sleep, Spikey. It’ll be fine in the morning.” Nicholas said voice hushed. His lips were soft as they dropped kisses across Vash’s skin.

Vash pressed his eyes shut, drawing in a shaky breath. He found himself smiling, albeit sadly. He wanted to believe that it would be, but honestly, he wasn't all that sure. 

“Yeah. Okay. G’night, Nick.” He finally said.

“Night, Vash.”

 

***

 

When the morning dawned, bright and clear, Nicholas was perched on the edge of the bed smoking. The pinkish glow of the early morning suns made his skin look warm and lush in the dappled light. Vash watched him for a time, charmed by the messiness of his dark hair and the way it stood up oddly in places. His expression was placid, peaceful in a way. After a while, he turned, as if sensing Vash’s eyes on him, and offered a bit of a disarming smile.

Vash felt a slippery, light feeling bubble up from his chest. He smiled back, if not a touch hesitant. Stabbing out his cigarette on the dish balanced on his knee, Nicholas set it aside. Then he was crawling up the bed to slide in behind Vash. It was still early enough that the town wasn’t quite awake, so Vash felt no guilt in hoarding this moment to himself. The other man's palm was warm where it slid across Vash’s naked skin. It burned hot across his chest and down along his abdomen. Vash couldn’t say no.

The street was bustling to life outside their window as Vash trembled apart under Nicholas' hot mouth and questing fingers.  Afterward, they crammed themselves into the shower together despite the lack of space. Predictably, Nicholas had griped about his soap being gone. But the angry tension and Nicholas’ sullen silence had seemingly fled. It both was, and was not better.

“We should get going soon,” Nick pointed out as they dressed. “Your aim was shit, yesterday. You need to get your gun looked at before we go after Kni--”

“Why do you always gotta bring stuff like that up?” Vash interrupted, if not a bit childishly. He knew, _God_ but he knew. He just didn’t want to--That damned case of coins was burning a hole in his pocket. “Sometimes I could just-- Ugh. You drive me crazy.”

Nicholas was glowering where he stood, expression dark and stormy. Vash _knew_ that they didn’t have the luxury of avoiding for much longer. He knew that they were running out of time. Nicholas’ face said as much. Vash sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair and down over his face. When he glanced back up Nicholas was watching him. He looked so very tired and heavy-hearted.

“Let's go grab some breakfast.” He suggested. His tone was stripped and bare and aching with the same desperate sadness that Vash felt.

“..Yeah, okay.” Vash replied at length. He could live with that.

There were a great many things, Vash had found throughout the years, which he had been able to live through.

His heart broke a bit more as he wondered if Nicholas would be one of them.

 

 

 

_\-------_

_I think I love you like a car crash, dear_  
_I don't want your wreckage but I find I cannot steer_  
_My eyes away now, you know I couldn't stay now_  
_Let me go, let me go,_  
_Angels raise accusing eyes, I'm gonna lose him,_  
_Let me go, let me go._

_'Cause I might let you break my heart._  
_If mine was all that I was worth_  
_I might let you break my heart,_  
_If I don't break it first_


End file.
